“Oh, come on. Don’t make me eat Christmas cookies at midnight by myself.” She waved for him to follow as she turned toward the back of the house.
His stomach clenched, cementing his feet in place. When had he last eaten? The apple at breakfast?
Emma stopped in her kitchen doorway. “You coming?”
Without the bulk of the winter coat surrounding her, the slight build of her frame was more visible, even in the jeans and oversized sweatshirt she wore. He’d thought her features delicate, but in truth, all of her appeared that way, and it soured his gut to remember how she’d been struggling with her mugger when he’d first come upon them.
Warily, he followed her into the kitchen, a small but bright room with yellow walls, white cabinets, and a two-seater table. Besides two Christmas placemats on the table, the holiday hadn’t vomited in here, and it made Caine feel slightly less on edge. He didn’t hold anyone’s love of the season against them, but for him the day had only ever represented disappointment and all the things he didn’t have. And never would.
Arms crossed, Caine stood near the doorway and watched Emma as she washed her hands and retrieved a canister and napkins.
“Okay, coffee or soda? Or water? Or tea?” She smiled. “Basically anything except alcohol which I sadly have none of at the moment.”
“Water’s fine,” he said, not at all surprised she didn’t have alcohol in her house. Not that he cared. He drank only infrequently, not liking the feeling of his senses being dulled, or his reaction time being delayed. But it was just another little confirmation of her wholesomeness that was so unlike himself.
“You sure?” She opened her refrigerator door covered in kids’ stick-figure drawings and peered in. “I have milk, too.”
Shaking his head, he was about to reiterate his choice when his gaze landed on something in her fridge and his eyes went wide. “Is that orange soda?”
She grabbed two and grinned. “It is orange soda. You like?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. He hadn’t had an orange soda in years, but once upon a time it’d been a childhood favorite. One of the few treats the home offered the kids.
Emma put ice in glasses and placed the drinks on the table. “Sit down. I’ll bring the cookies over.”
“Mind if I wash my hands first?” he asked. The longer he spent in Emma’s presence, the more he felt the ménage clinging to his skin, and it was nauseating. Or maybe that was a side effect of his hunger.
“Of course.”
When he was done, he sat on the edge of the closest seat and popped open his can. Bubbles fizzed over his fingers, and the sweetness of orange hit his nose as he poured.
“Okay, there’s snickerdoodles, chocolate chip, molasses, peanut butter, and sugar cookies. I can take credit for everything except the peanut butter,” Emma said. “They always turn out too dry when I make them. And then I discovered the ones at Dutch’s and they’re amazing, so those I bought. I think they got a new baker in there because they’ve seriously upped their dessert game. Do you know that place?” Emma brought a heaping plate of cookies to the table and slid into the other chair.
Small talk normally wasn’t his strong suit—he never saw the point. But this was actually a topic he knew something about. “Yeah, the club hangs at Dutch’s,” he said, referring to a nearby diner whose owner had always been friendly to the Ravens. “And her name’s Haven.”
Pouring her drink, Emma placed three cookies onto a napkin in front of her. “Who?”
He took an iced snow man. “Dutch’s new baker. She’s the club president’s girlfriend.” Well, fiancée now. Caine had been present with the rest of the club when Dare Kenyon had gotten down on one knee and proposed to Haven at Thanksgiving dinner. He wasn’t the only one who’d paired off during the last year, but he was the one who surprised Caine the most. He’d always thought Dare too married to the club to ever make room for anything more than hook-ups. Caine definitely felt that way. Which was convenient since he never let himself get close enough to anyone to chance feeling or wanting more.
He’d learned the hard way that it was a chance not worth taking.
People couldn’t hurt you as much if you didn’t care about them.
“No way! You know her?” Emma’s eyes went wide, her gaze full of what looked like awe and delight. Two emotions rarely directed at him, that was for fucking sure.
And it hit him funny, almost like the scary thrill of nearly taking a turn too fast and too tight on his bike.
Caine nodded as he finished the first cookie. And it was like that first one emphasized how empty his stomach was, because he was suddenly ravenous. “That was good. You mind?” He gestured toward the plate.